


Reclaim Your Body, Lose Your Mind

by omgbubblesomg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Sam Winchester, Angelic Grace, Bottom Dean, Bottom Sam, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Not enough preparation, Spells & Enchantments, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Castiel, Top Dean, Wincestiel - Freeform, Witch Curses, angel decay, body switching, forced blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 10:46:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7358092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgbubblesomg/pseuds/omgbubblesomg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, Dean and Cas get threeway body swapped with each other and the only way to fix it is to have a… threeway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

> This is a lot darker than I originally planned, but hopefully leaves you smiling by the end. Enjoy!

Just a routine haunting. Yeah, right. He was going to kill Bobby for passing this job on. He was going to kill Bobby _and_ these witches as soon as he figured how to get himself and Sam out of their current situation.

His ankles and wrists had been pulled outward and, at the insistence of the witches, metal cuffs had appeared from the wall to restrain him. His clothes were long gone, ripped off him by force. While he struggled another cuff snapped into place around his neck and stopped him from looking around, though from the sounds of struggle to his left he guessed that Sam was in a similar situation.

“So you lot have been terrorising the locals, not a ghost, huh?” he asked.

The five witches giggled.

“Well,” said the closest, “all those mischievous husbands probably would have cheated sooner or later, our tiny spell just made it a little sooner,” she winked. “A girl has to get her kicks somewhere, handsome.”

“What is with you witches and sex. You couldn’t just watch porn like a normal person?”

“Oh now where would be the fun in _that_ ” and she started giggling again. Dean tugged at the cuffs on his wrists, trying to slip his hand through, but the metal edge began to slice into his hands and he stopped. All his weight was resting on his chin and wrists, and he was beginning to lose feeling in his fingers. A trickle of blood leaked down his arm. The mouldy brick wall behind him was rough against his bare skin. He and Sam were naked and chained to the wall of a dirty underground lair beneath a school, and no one knew they were there. _Shit_.

Well, there was one person who could get them out, Dean realised. He was about to yell _Cas_ when the giggly witch reached forward and shoved something into his open mouth, and he gagged instead. He tried to push it out with his tongue but she was tying the material in a knot behind his head. He had the dim realisation that it might have been one of his ripped shirts. From the muffled sounds to his left, Sam was getting the same treatment.

Well, this day just kept getting better and better. He closed his eyes and focused on Cas’ name, imagined throwing the word out as far as he could, as though he were throwing a baseball. He didn’t know if that kind of thing worked, but wasn’t sure how else to get the angel’s attention. Was this praying? Was he doing it right? He imagined himself shouting the name, too, just to be certain. He completely ignored the witches in front of him, who were saying something in Latin. He picked up a couple of words but they made no sense to him. Something about flesh and something about exchange. He imagined writing Cas’ name down and chanted _help, help, help_ , as he did.

The witches were drawing to the loud conclusion of their weird-ass chant, and from the sounds of Sam’s muffled yells he had been listening in on their spell and didn’t like the sound of it at all. Trust Sam to be a nerdy Latin translator at a time like this.

The tall blonde, who must have been the ringleader, pointed at Dean, and then at Sam, and then at Dean again, then yelled “ _MODO MUTARI_ ” just as the sound of Castiel’s feathery arrival announced the angel had heard Dean’s silent prayer.

There was a muffled sort of _crack_ and everything went black, and Dean had the vague impression that his head was being pulled away from the rest of him, as though he were a piece of stretched out taffy in the sun.

He blinked and struggled to return his brain back to its headquarters, but everything felt weird and there was a sluggishness to his thinking. He blinked a couple of times but the room looked weird too. Someone was yelling “Dean”, but he thought they were a fair distance away.

Then, like a camera coming in to focus, the room regained its clarity and Dean was again aware of the pain in his wrists and neck, though they hurt a hell of a lot more than 5 seconds ago. He must have been struggling harder than he realised. Someone was still yelling “Dean,” and it sounded a lot like Cas. He grunted in response, trying to chew past the material in his mouth. Though now that he thought about it, it felt less like a shirt and more like a sock. Gross.

He grunted again and then Castiel was standing in front of him, gaping.

“Oh shit,” said the angel. “Oh fucking hell, this is so fucked.”

If Dean had control of his jaw, he would have dropped it, but with the metal collar around his neck all he could do was stare. Had Cas ever sworn before? Did he even know what a swear word was? It sounded completely alien coming from the normally frumpy angel.

Dean struggled against the cuffs again, trying to indicate to Cas to free him, but the angel just kept staring. Had the witches done something to him? Belatedly, he looked behind Cas for a sign of them, but no one was there.

“They’re gone,” Cas said. “I think I accidentally banished them to hell.” He was still staring at Dean. “Oh shit, this is so fucked up.”

Dean grunted again and shook his head, trying to dislodge the gag. At the same time, a low moan sounded to his right, making him start. If Sam was on his left, who the hell was making that noise?

Castiel hurried out of eyesight and Dean started yelling against the fabric in his mouth, demanding to be freed.

“Dean?” Cas’ voice said. Dean yelled some more. There was a sound of ripping fabric and then Dean heard _his own voice_ responding to Cas.

“S-Sam?”

_What the hell? What the fucking hell?_

“Yeah. What the fuck happened?”

“It appears as though your brother summoned me just as those witches cast a spell. My arrival appears to have thrown the spell off, but the consequences are not light.”

Dean was thoroughly tripping out. The witches had pulled some serious spellwork because it sounded as though Castiel was having a conversation with... well, with _him_. Except _he_ was talking like _Cas_.

“Cas?” asked Cas.

“Yes,” said Dean’s voice-clone. “It appears my grace has remained in my vessel. You should have no difficulty removing these restraints.”

A horrible sound filled the air. Like rending metal, as though ten cars were suddenly being ripped in half by a metal claw. Dean closed his eyes and screamed in confusion and pain. What the _hell_ was going on?

When he blinked his eyes open, Castiel was standing in front of him again, and on his left was... a fucking shapeshifter.

Dean yelled through his gag, urging Castiel to get away from the Dean look-alike, but they both stared at him in what looked like concern. The shapeshifter was naked, and didn’t appear to be worried at all that he was showing off Dean’s goods,

“Dean?” it asked.

Dean roared back at it. Where the hell was Sam?

Castiel looked at the shapeshifter and then quickly averted his gaze again. It seemed as though the angel was still at least somewhat a prude. “He probably thinks you’re a shapeshifter,” he said.

The shapeshifter raised a hand and Dean flinched away, but a second later the fabric was being loosened from around his head and his mouth was finally free.

“Cas!” he rasped. “Get away from it!”

He coughed, and then coughed some more. His voice sounded... wrong. “Cas,” he tried again, but it came out weird. He kept coughing, and Cas and the shapeshifter kept looking at him in concern.

“Dean,” said Castiel, “don’t freak out, but I’m going to take this collar off and I need you to look down at yourself.” Then he reached forward and the horrible sound filled the air again as the metal around Dean’s neck was literally yanked apart by the angel’s superhuman strength.

Part of him didn’t want to, but he couldn’t resist. He looked down.

And down. And down. A jolt of vertigo had him blinking dazedly. His feet were at least a foot further away than they should have been, and they didn’t look like his feet at all. The hair on his legs was too dark and the skin on his stomach looked too brown and, 

“My dick is too big,” he said aloud, in his new, weird voice.

Castiel scoffed (another thing Dean had never heard him do). “Trust you to focus on something like _dick size_ , Dean.”

“What the hell is going on?” he asked.

Castiel and the shapeshifter exchanged a glance, but it was Cas who spoke.

“You weren’t listening to the spell, were you?” Dean shook his head no. “Well, don’t freak out... but I think the witches swapped our bodies. Or our minds, at least, since our bodies stayed in the same place.”

Dean looked back down at himself, and then looked at his arms stretched out on either side. There was a long scar on the joint of his left arm that had never been there before, but looked suspiciously familiar.

“Holy shit,” he said weakly.

“There’s nothing holy about this situation, Dean,” said the shapeshifter. “You called me down from heaven and now I’m stuck in an ill-fitting vessel with no access to my grace. Do you have any idea how constricting this is?”

“Constricting?” Dean choked. And then he looked closer. “Cas?” he whispered. “Is that you?”

“Yes, I am here,” muttered the shapeshifter through clenched teeth. Wait, not a shapeshifter... a fucking _angel_ in _Dean’s body_.

And if Castiel was stuck in Dean’s body, then that meant the person in Castiel’s body was...

“Sam?”

“Bingo. Are you freaking out?”

“Um.”

He looked back down at his body again and realised, painfully, that it wasn’t _his_ body at all. Those were Sam’s freakishly big feet, and that was Sam’s distinctive scar, and the hair falling into his eyes was Sam’s hair.

“What do we do?” he asked.

“I have a theory about that too, but let me get you out first. As long as you promise not to attack Cas.”

“Okay,” he said in a small voice, and then winced as Sam used his new angel-strength to rip the metal around Dean’s wrists and ankles apart.

Safely back on his own feet -well, on Sam’s feet, anyway- he shook himself and stretched, smirking when both Cas and Sam stared. If Cas could walk around stark naked in Dean’s body, then Dean should be allowed to do the same with Sam’s. Speaking of which, he walked around Cas and whistled. “I’ve always wanted to see my own ass,” he remarked. Sam huffed in frustration. “So what’s the plan to whammy us back into our respective bodies?”

“Well the witches were trying to pull our minds away from our bodies, presumably so they could use our bodies for their spell casting. Remember all the guys in town talking about how they had blacked out for a whole day and couldn’t remember any of it? I think the witches were using them for some kind of enchantment. But instead of pulling our minds out, Cas arrived and messed up the whole spell and everything sort of sprung back, except we all got confused in the transfer and ended up in the wrong bodies.”

“So how do we reverse it? I mean, no offence to the fucking baseball bat you’ve got down here, but I’m going to want to return to my own beautiful ass pretty soon.”

Sam grimaced. “Well, I can’t say for sure, but I think it might have to do with what the witches were doing at the end of the spell. The locals said they all returned to normal in the middle of, er, _intercourse_.”

“Ugh. You mean we have to fuck a witch to return to normal?”

“Um, well in this case I don’t think it was actually the witches who caused the swap. Technically, it was Cas.”

There was an awkward pause.

“So, what you’re saying is,” Dean started, then stopped. “I mean what you think happened is,” he stopped again. “Hold up, so you think I have to fuck _Cas_?”

Sam looked miserably back at him. “I guess?”

There was another awkward pause, in which no one asked the elephant in the room. Eventually, Dean coughed.

“Um...” he began, then coughed again. “Ah... _which Cas_?”

They both looked at the angel, who was standing eerily still in Dean’s body.

“Both,” he said, decisively.

“Excuse me?” Dean squeaked.

“It was both the grace of my vessel and the angelic force of my mind that scattered the spell, and if what Sam deduced is correct, then both my body and my mind need to be part of the spell to reverse what has happened here.”

The edges of Dean’s vision went dark, and he thought he was about to pass out. He reached out to lean against the wall but his arm was longer than he remembered and he ended up punching it. His knuckles began to bleed.

“What. The. Fuck.” he said quietly.

“May I suggest removing ourselves to somewhere more comfortable?” prompted Castiel, looking at Sam and raising Dean’s eyebrows questioningly.

“Huh?” Sam said intelligently. “What, you mean like... flying?”

“Did you have another option to get two naked men out of the basement of a school?”

“Um. How exactly do I...?”

Castiel cocked Dean’s head, and it was so characteristically _Cas_ that Dean momentarily forgot how stunned he was at Sam’s spell theory. He snorted.

“I’m not sure there is a certain way of explaining it. Don’t you naturally know how to fly?”

“Um.... No?” Sam was looking more and more confused, and it was such a strange expression on Castiel’s face that Dean snorted again.

Both Sam and Cas glared at him, and he shut up.

Cas walked closer to Sam, who averted his eyes from Dean’s dick where it hung between his legs. Dean pondered it proudly. It was no monster like Sam’s apparently was, but it was _his_ and he was proud of it.

Cas was explaining to Sam something about focusing on a particular detail of his destination, and Sam had his eyes closed in concentration. A second later, Sam reached Castiel’s hands out and put two fingers against Dean’s forehead. Nothing happened. He looked over at Cas, who was frowning slightly.

“Your wings don’t actually exist in this plane, Sam. Stop trying to flap them. Locate your destination in your mind and let your grace direct your wings.”

Sam scrunched his eyes tighter and then there was a gut-wrenching lurch and Dean was falling. He only had a second to register the fall before he was landing on something soft, and then something not-so-soft was landing on top of _him_.

He struggled for a second until he realised he was on a bed, and the thing on top of him was actually, well... himself. In the ensuing confusion he got elbowed a fair bit by his own naked body and ended up accidentally touching his own dick which was just, _nope_.

“Dammit, Cas, get off!”

“Sam, may I suggest focusing on something at eye level next time?”

“Sorry, sorry,” came Sam’s reply in Castiel’s husky voice. “But the pattern on the roof here was the only memorable thing about it.”

Sure enough, they were in their most recent motel, and while Sam stood awkwardly at the door, both Dean and Cas had materialised at the roof and fallen on to the bed below.

“Lucky I couldn’t sleep last night and memorised the pattern,” Sam said.

Dean grunted, then pushed himself up. He walked into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of whiskey out of a plastic bag. It was supposed to be for after a successful hunt, but he was damned if he was going to face sex with an angel while sober. He unscrewed the cap and didn’t bother with a glass before tossing his head back and taking a few long draughts. The alcohol felt good as it burnt its way down his throat, but it tasted different than usual. Dean felt immediately drunk. He walked back out into the main room.

“Fuck your weirdo tastebuds and your weak-ass alcohol intolerance,” he told Sam. “I’m ready. Let’s fucking do this.” Then he threw himself down on the closest bed and stared at the other two.

“Well?” he asked when they didn’t move.

“Uh, Dean... Have you considered the implications of, um, both Cas’ mind _and_ body being involved?”

Dean squinted up at Sam, then sat up on the bed. “What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously.

“Well, uh... for the spell to reverse, all three of us have to be involved.” He coughed self-consciously. “At the same time.”

Dean grimaced. “Okay, okay, are we talking like a few mutual handjobs here or...?”

Sam was looking more and more uncomfortable, and Dean would have enjoyed his unease if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew Sam’s unease was about to affect him too.

“Well, um, I think that you, shit, I think that your body is going to have to claim your mind back, because Cas is in there at the moment.”

Dean blanched. He was going to have to let himself get fucked by his own dick. _Jesus_.

“And, uh... _My_ body is going to have to claim _my_ mind back. At the, uh... same time.”

Silence.

Dean stood without a word, went back into the kitchen, and took another long pull at the whiskey. He walked back out into the main room, looked at the others staring back at him awkwardly, and took another long pull.

“Dean,” Sam started, “you’re not helping anyone.”

Dean just held up his middle finger and took another swig.

“Dean, if you get too drunk you won’t be able to... you know... _finish the spell_.” Sam grimaced at the unintended entendre. Dean took another swig. “ _Dean_ ,” Sam warned. And then instead of whiskey, Dean found himself drinking a bottle of water.

“What the-” he spluttered. Sam looked as confused as he felt. They both looked at Cas, who shrugged. “If you visualise something, your grace will direct it to happen. Try to keep your emotions in check.”

Disgruntled, Dean sat back down on the bed. _Could he do it_? he asked himself. _Could he fuck his brother and let Cas fuck him? Or, could he fuck Cas and let himself get fucked by his own body_? He grimaced. He desperately wanted more alcohol but the whiskey had been their only supply.

Nobody moved for perhaps a full minute, and then Sam awkwardly began pulling clothes off.

“Sam,” Dean warned, still undecided.

“It’s not going to, you know, _hurt_ , or anything,” his brother replied. Dean flinched. He hadn’t even considered that.

“Maybe you misheard the witches? Shouldn’t we, I dunno... call someone and check?”

“Who do you want to call, Dean?” Sam asked wryly. “Bobby? Because I sure as hell don’t think Bobby is going to be able to help us with this one.”

Cas was suddenly beside the bed. “Maybe you should lie down, at least until I can prepare you for penetration.”

Dean gagged, then a thought occurred. “What about Cas’ body? Doesn’t it have to, you know, _claim_ its mind as well?”

Sam and Castiel exchanged another look.

“Probably not,” Sam eventually said. “Cas caused the spell to backfire, and he’s an angel. But our bodies need to be returned using the same technique as the original spell.”

Cas sat next to Dean on the bed and put one hand on his shoulder, pushing him gently until he began to turn. Dean let himself get handled until he was on his side, facing the bathroom.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he whispered to himself.

“Try to relax,” said Cas behind him, and then the snap of an opening bottle filled the silence of the room. Dean didn’t even want to think about where they found that. Sam had probably accidentally whammied it into existence with his mind. He desperately tried to relax, but his muscles weren’t obeying. Some part of himself was arguing that there had always been a _thing_ with Castiel, with his windswept hair and husky voice, and an even darker part of himself was recalling all the half-formed fantasies of Sam, naked and writhing, but he had never wanted to act on those desires, and he hated being forced into anything. If it had just been the angel, well… He would have dealt it, but with Sam, Jesus, his brother didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve being forced into sex because Dean hadn’t called for Cas sooner. He certainly didn’t deserve having Dean’s warped thoughts pushed on him. _In_ him. _Shit_. He was beginning to hyperventilate, but he couldn’t force his breathing to slow either. He gripped the musty pillowcase in front of him and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think about nothing.

A large hand came to rest on his side, and he jerked away automatically. That was _his_ hand. He couldn’t even look at it. He was using Sam’s hands to fist into the motel pillow, and Cas was about to use Dean’s hands to... shit, shit, shit.

Cas gripped his left thigh and pushed it forward and up to roll him over slightly. Dean had started shaking but was doing his best not to fight back, letting himself get handled into a position with his knee raised and his ass exposed. Shit. Shit, shit. His knuckles were white in front of him where they were tangled into the pillowcase. _RELAX_ he yelled at himself, _It’s just Cas, It’s just Cas_. But when the ghost of a finger slid down the crack of his ass he leapt out of the bed with a strangled yelp.

“Nope, nuh uh, this is not happening, I’ve changed my mind, we’re finding a better way, we’re calling Bobby, this is just, nope.”

“Dean, calm down,” said Cas. “You’re approaching hysteria.”

“I need a drink,” he griped back.

“Dean,” said Sam sadly, “I’m so sorry, but we don’t really have time for this.”

“Have _time_?” hissed Dean. “There was no _time limit_ on the enchantment, and I am _not_ getting in to bed with my _brother_ and an _angel_ unless I know it’s the only available option.”

“You can... you can close your eyes if you want. Pretend we’re someone else. Cas and I won’t say a word, I promise. But please, Dean, you need to get back on the bed.”

“You get back on the bed,” he snarked back.

“Dean, your body isn’t Cas’ true vessel. We don’t have time to find another option.”

Dean turned to stare at Castiel, and sure enough he could see the telltale signs of decay beginning to form across his body. One shoulder already showed red scarring and even as he watched a gash opened across his chest. Dean gaped.

“But... what? What’s happening? Why is it going so fast?”

“You are the true vessel of an archangel,” Cas reminded him. “Your body is rejecting my presence at a faster rate than usual. Do not be afraid, Dean. I can heal you when I am restored to my true vessel.” A red wound spread itself across the collarbone of Dean’s body, and Cas flinched slightly.

“Does it hurt?”

“Pain does not come naturally for an angel, Dean, but yes, the decay is not a pleasant sensation when I am without my grace. When you are restored to your body you will need to stay still until I can heal you. There will be some momentary pain.”

“I... I know you don’t want this,” Sam began, “but Dean, we haven’t got enough time for you to get comfortable with the idea. Please, just lie down and... and let Cas help. It’ll be over soon, I promise. Imagine you’re in bed with someone else. Just, please, we need to hurry.”

Dean cleared his throat. “How much time?” he asked.

“No more than sixty minutes,” Cas told him. “Lie down, Dean.”

 _One hour_ , Dean thought to himself. _One hour to somehow arrange himself into the middle of an angel incest sandwich_. He gagged, but forced himself to approach the bed. He could do this. He was Dean Fucking Winchester. For Sam, and for Cas, and for his own broken body, he could do this.

And then he was going to get really, really, _really_ drunk.


	2. Found

Dean jerked his legs towards the bed again, and for the second time he let Cas manhandle him onto his side, with one knee raised to expose his ass. His heart was thundering, and when Castiel’s finger ghosted between his cheeks he locked his muscles in to place to stop himself from jolting out of bed again. He _hated_ having no options. His mouth was dry with panic and his throat had constricted so much that when Cas prodded a finger against his hole his breath came out as a choke.

“Your muscles are too tense, Dean,” said Cas. “You need to relax or I won’t be able to prepare you for penetration.”

“Just… try touching yourself,” Sam piped in. “You’ll relax more when it starts to feel good.”

Dean glanced over his shoulder and stared. Sam was completely naked in Castiel’s body and was kneeling on the other bed. He was twisted at the waist and one arm was behind him, his hand invisibly working to open himself up. 

“Have you done this before?” Dean asked.

Sam glanced up at him and saw him staring. “Uh, not like this. Jess and I tried some stuff, you know. Just experimenting,” he flinched. “I promise it feels good once you’ve relaxed. Touch yourself,” he prompted again.

Dean wrapped a tentative hand around the colossus that Sam apparently called his dick. He was laughably soft, but he stroked himself anyway. Behind him, Cas was making small circles against his hole with the tip of one finger, futilely applying sporadic pressure against it. Dean looked back down at the dick in his hands and kept stroking. He was having immense doubts that he was ever going to fit this dick into anyone. He looked over his shoulder at Sam again, who was still twisted uncomfortably.

“Are you, uh, sure this is going to fit?” he asked.

“It’ll fit, Dean. You might have to push pretty hard, though. We don’t have time for me to open myself up properly.”

Dean grimaced at the implication, but he would be damned to hell and back before he let himself hurt Sam. “Do you… you know… need a hand?”

“You don’t have to, Dean. That’s okay. Just focus on relaxing.”

“Actually,” said Cas, “Dean might need a little help to take his mind off the present situation.”

Dean had been steadfastly ignored Castiel’s roving finger behind him, but it was now painfully obvious that the angel wasn’t getting anywhere with his exploration of Dean’s ass.

Sam slowly got off the opposite bed and stood in front of Dean, presumably not joining him and Cas because motel beds weren’t designed to hold three fully grown men.

“You need to focus more on the tip,” Sam said,

“Huh?” was Dean’s articulate reply.

Sam gestured towards Dean’s crotch where Dean was having no success with his dick. It felt so, so wrong to be stroking himself while his brother looked down at him, but Dean followed his advice and let his hand focus on the end of his cock. _My brother is watching me stroke his dick_ , Dean thought to himself. Behind him, Cas let out a triumphant hiss, and Dean felt the tip of one finger enter him. He automatically tensed up again, not realising he had relaxed at all.

“Keep going,” Cas told Sam.

Sam turned on the spot and then before Dean could say anything he was bending over and resting his hands on the little bedside table. He spread his legs and Dean could see the shiny slickness of his ass.

“Holy shit,” he said out loud, and a punch of arousal (finally) hit him. Cas slid more of his finger into Dean and wriggled it slightly.

His dick was finally taking an interest in the proceedings, and had begun to harden. It was an awkward position, but Dean kept stroking with one hand and reached toward Sam with the other.

He slid one finger through the mess of lube between Sam’s cheeks, and then paused at the pink hole, just resting his finger there.

“Uh, may I?” he asked.

“Do it,” Sam panted, and then moaned as Dean slid his finger in. It went in easily, the puckered pink hole expanding to take him in. Dean stared and stared, not moving. He had his _finger_ in someone’s _ass_.

“I was up to t-two fingers,” Sam stuttered, still panting.

As if on autopilot, Dean pulled his first finger out and then pressed two fingers against Sam’s hole. Again, they went in easily, but it was a lot less roomy than before. Everything was slick and wet and Dean bent his fingers slightly to slide the pads against Sam’s inner wall. Sam moaned in pleasure.

“How does it feel?” Dean asked curiously.

“S’good,” Sam slurred. “Can feel you in me.” He moaned again. “Cas is really sensitive. Feels good when you, _ngh_ , when you touch the… the entrance.”

Dean took his other hand off his dick, which had finally hardened, and scratched lightly against the skin where Sam’s ass was squeezed around Dean’s fingers. Sam choked and his knees buckled slightly.

“God, Dean, _yes_.”

Distantly, Dean could feel Castiel working a finger in and out of his ass, but it felt absolutely foreign and totally weird, so he continued trying to ignore it. He was definitely not having the same reaction as Sam was.

Sam’s legs were trembling slightly, and Dean stroked his free hand along the back of Sam’s thighs. He had no idea what he was doing, but the part of his brain that was reserved for taking care of Sam was working on autopilot. He bent the two fingers in Sam’s ass again, and tried spreading them apart. He was vaguely aware that he was doing this to prepare his younger brother for sex, but it was also insanely hot to feel the tight muscle give against his insistence. He spread his fingers wider and Sam groaned.

“T-try three.”

Dean removed his fingers from Sam’s ass, which sucked back greedily against them. This time, Dean paused before pushing his fingers back in, and flicked lightly against Sam’s hole. Sam jerked and groaned again, louder. Dean repeated the flick, and then rubbed around the hole with the pad of his thumb. Sam was writhing beneath him.

“Dean,” Cas said from behind him, making him jerk. He had almost forgotten the angel was there. Belatedly, he realised Cas was wriggling two fingers in his ass, spreading them in much the same way Dean had been doing to Sam. “Dean, stay focused. You need to prepare Sam for penetration and we don’t have time for unnecessary antics, pleasurable though they may be.”

Dean again became aware of the size of the dick he was supposed to be fitting into his brother, and grimaced.

“Sorry, Cas,” the brothers said simultaneously.

Dean pushed three fingers against Sam’s hole, and Sam pushed back against him. They didn’t slide in easily, this time, and Sam let out a pained sound when they squeezed into him.

“God, Sam. Sorry,” said Dean.

“That’s okay. Cas is right. We need to do whatever’s fastest.”

“That’s bullshit,” Dean said aggressively. “I’m not going to… to _rape_ you, man.” He grimaced.

“You’re not forcing me, Dean. And unless it wasn’t clear before, you have my permission, okay? Then Sam looked over his shoulder, and Dean saw his eyes widen as he took in Castiel’s body. “Uh, maybe we should speed things up a little,” he said.

Dean looked behind him as well and was horrified to see the pattern of red and black wounds criss-crossing Castiel’s body. _His_ body.

“Shit, Cas. Jesus.”

He winced as Cas removed his fingers from Dean’s ass, then sat upright on the bed and turned around to face the angel. He felt weird and open and empty, and really, really wet.

“Cas, Cas, oh my god. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine for now, Dean, but we need to commence intercourse as soon as possible.”

“Move over,” Sam commanded, and then he was joining them on the bed and getting on his hands and knees. “Quick, Dean. Fuck me.”

Panic and arousal played ping pong in his head. Arousal won, and Dean turned to his brother and kneeled behind him, grabbing both globes of his ass and pulling them apart. Sam got on to his elbows and dropped his head down lower, angling his hips up at Dean. Dean contemplated the winking hole in front of him and then studied Sam’s back, but couldn’t get any sense of what his brother was thinking. Dean’s dick was still rock hard and it was begging to bury itself in the tight heat of Sam’s ass, but everything was happening too quickly and Dean hesitated.

“Sam,” he said, “I can’t. Jesus, man, this is so wrong.”

Sam turned his head to the side and looked up at his big brother. “Come on, Dean,” he urged. “It feels good, I swear. I want this, come on.” He wiggled his ass slightly, and Dean’s mouth went dry, but he wasn’t some cave man, slave to his desires, and he hated facing Sam’s back as though he were some faceless nobody.

“Seriously, Sam. This doesn’t feel right. I can’t do this to you. We’ll find another way.”

“Dean,” Cas warned, and Sam groaned in frustration before rolling over on to his back.

“We don’t have _time_ , Dean. For god’s sake, hurry up. Here,” he threw a pillow down at the floor. “This way I can prove I want this. Kneel on the floor on that, then Cas can fuck you from behind.” When Dean gaped at him Sam growled again in frustration. “Stop pussyfooting, Dean, and get your ass in gear. Cas and I both want this, you’re the only one letting your misguided morals get in the way!”

Dean rolled off the bed and kneeled on the pillow Sam had thrown him, the top of his thighs resting against the low-slung bedframe. Cas kneeled behind him, a warm strength against his back. Sam shimmied his way down the bed until his legs bracketed Dean’s body, and his ass rested on the very edge of the mattress. Then he wrapped his legs around Dean’s back and used his heels to pull him forward, forcing Dean to inch closer. Cas pushed forward slightly from behind him until the tip of Dean’s cock was right next to Sam’s ass.

“Here,” said Sam, grabbing Dean’s hand and wrapping it around his cock. “See how hard I am? Can you feel how much I want you?” Dean gave an experimental squeeze and Sam moaned with exaggeration, egging Dean on. Dean studied his brother’s face and found only arousal and frustration. “Hurry up, Dean. Get inside me. I want it. Want you.”

Cas was scratching Dean’s sides lightly, and his hands were sending shivers over Dean’s skin. Dean let go of Sam’s dick and grabbed his own, angling the hard flesh towards Sam’s ass. Sam moaned in excitement.

“Yes, Dean, God, _yes_ , finally.”

Dean pressed the head of his cock against Sam’s entrance and the thought again occurred to him that there was no way this gigantic dick was ever going to fit inside someone. He tried to pull away but Cas was behind him and he couldn’t edge backward. Cas was pressing forward inexorably, forcing Dean’s dick to press harder against Sam. Dean looked up into his brother’s face but found nothing that resembled panic or pain. His brother looked, well, blissful.

“Sam?” he asked.

“I’m here, Dean, I’m here. I want you. It’s going to be good, I swear.”

Then Cas pushed forward again and suddenly the tip of Dean’s cock entered his brother. All three of them paused, breathing heavily, and Dean could hear Sam chanting quietly. “Yes, yes, yes, god, yes, oh my god, yes, Dean.” It was incredibly tight, and Dean’s eyes crossed slightly as the sensitive head of his dick was squeezed by Sam’s muscles. Castiel was obviously feeling a little overlooked, though, because he didn’t give them much time to adjust before he was pressing forward again, forcing Dean to slide deeper into Sam’s slicked open insides. Dean watched Sam’s face carefully for signs of pain, but it wasn’t until he was almost three quarters in before Sam grimaced. Dean immediately pushed back against Cas, trying to slow him down.

“Sam,” he whispered. “Sammy.”

“S’okay,” Sam replied. “Keep going. I’ll adjust in a sec.”

Dean tried to pull back but Cas jammed his hips forward and Dean slipped, his entire dick pushing into Sam, who gasped in pain.

“Oh god, Sam, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“M’fine,” he said, gasping. “It’s better this way. Just don’t move for a bit.”

Dean looked over his shoulder to berate Cas, and gasped in shock. “Holy shit, Cas,” he blurted. The angel was almost completely covered in the decaying wounds that indicated his vessel was expiring. Dean was horrified that he was soon going to be forced back into that body.

“We need to hurry,” Castiel said, somewhat unnecessarily.

Dean agreed completely. He bent forward over Sam and spread his legs as far as he could. “Come on, Cas,” he urged, but Cas didn’t move.

“The pain has, uh, depleted my capacity for pleasure. I might need some assistance.”

“What?” Dean almost yelled. He was leaning over Sam, who was bent almost in half with his legs around Dean’s waist. His cock was buried to the hilt inside his brother, and it was twitching impatiently at being forced to remain still. Dean twisted his head around to see what the problem was, and was horrified to catch a glimpse of his own dick, thankfully free of any wounds but surrounded by the decaying flesh of the rest of his body. He wasn’t surprised to see that Cas was completely soft. Dean groaned and turned around to face Sam, who was flushed in Castiel’s body. Dean remembered how Sam had given him advice when he needed to get hard, and he reached a hand behind him to grip his soft dick, giving it a shaky pull. The angle was completely wrong, but if he ignored the fact that his arm was behind him instead of in front, he could almost imagine he was giving himself a hand job, like any normal night in his bed.

He used his fingertips to focus on the underside of Castiel’s cock ( _his_ cock) and continued to stroke, trying to make it as good as possible for the angel, who was moaning slightly, though still not hardening. Cas leant his full weight against Dean, shoving him down further. Wanting to help, Sam reached forward, folding himself even tighter, and swirled a fingertip around Castiel’s nipple. Dean felt a shudder go through the angel, and out loud he said “harder, Sam. They’re sensitive.” He cringed, expecting Sam to laugh at him for having a body with sensitive nipples, but Sam just pinched harder and Cas finally started getting firm beneath Dean’s fingers. Dean stroked faster, and Castiel thrust fitfully against his hand.

A stray thought wandered into Dean’s mind, and began to circulate. When Cas got hard enough, he was going to push Dean’s dick inside of Dean, who was currently in Sam’s body, who was currently speared on Dean’s dick, who was currently giving a handjob to an angel, who was _about to fuck Dean in the ass_. Dean jerked his hand away, but it was too late for second guessing. Cas was rutting up against his back, hard as nails, and Dean had basically collapsed on top of Sam, who was valiantly supporting both their weights with his angelic strength.

“Dean, Dean,” Cas was chanting, his dick leaving messy scribbles of precum against Dean’s back.

“Dean, it’s time,” Sam said, still using his fingers on Castiel’s skin and nipples. “Spread your legs a little more and try to relax.”

Dean thought his legs were already pretty spread but he obediently pushed his knees further apart, bending lower over Sam. He pulled against Castiel’s cock, forcing him closer, until he could feel the hard flesh of the angel’s dick lining up against his ass. Then his brain short-circuited and he let go again, momentarily horrified by the situation. Luckily, Sam was paying attention and scooped his hand into place in Dean’s absence, angling Cas further towards Dean’s hole. Dean was beginning to freak out again, and he thought he might be softening where he was buried inside of Sam. Sure, he had sometimes thought about Cas as someone more than just a friend, and his occasional wet dreams about Sam were confusing and hot as hell, but there was no realm on earth that contained any kind of fantasy that involved forcing an angel and his goddamn brother into a threeway.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he said quietly, trying to breathe past the panic that was threatening to engulf him. His sweaty forehead was resting against Sam’s shoulder and he could feel a fucking _penis_ prodding curiously against his ass. “Shit,” he said again, louder.

Cas began to push forward, and Dean tried to focus his mind on something, _anything_ , that would help him relax. He skimmed through the twelve ways of differentiating between a vampire and a wendigo, whispering against Sam’s shoulder, and was halfway through a translation of a Latin exorcism when Cas pushed hard enough that he felt himself give way under the pressure, and a small section of Castiel’s dick pushed into him.

“ _Nope_ ,” he shook his head, “that is just, oh shit, so fucking wrong.” It felt awful. Tight. Painfull as hell. Wasn’t it supposed to feel good? He thought he might be ripped in half if Cas pushed any further in, but the angel was already trying to thrust. Dean was softening even further inside Sam, who squeezed his muscles desperately, trying to keep Dean distracted.

“Come on, Dean. Focus on me instead.” Sam flinched, and rectified his statement. “I mean, focus on Lisa or Cassie or someone.”

Dean lifted his head slightly until he could rest his forehead against Sam’s, and urgently tried to follow his advice. He pictured Lisa’s soft smile, but the image wavered and didn’t take hold against the feel of two hard bodies against him. Castiel was pushing further inside of Dean, who felt as if he was being pulled in two, and since they were already so close, Dean did the first thing he could think of and kissed Sam, hard and fierce. Sam didn’t move for a second but quickly got with the program, opening his mouth and biting at Dean’s bottom lip. Dean ignored the little voice in his brain that was reminding him that he was _kissing his brother_ , and he also ignored the evil voice that reminded him that he was exploring _Castiel’s_ mouth. He needed to distract himself and Sam’s lips were definitely distracting.

It was probably rougher than Dean would normally have liked, but the aim was to distract him from Castiel, and in that sense Sam’s lips were godsends. Sam shoved a tongue into Dean’s mouth and then licked against his lips, then shoved his tongue in again. He continued tongue-fucking Dean while Castiel pushed further and further in. Sam couldn’t stop the pain of getting fucked by his own dick, but he was doing his damndest to try, his teeth digging into the corner of Dean’s mouth, which Sam knew was sensitive, and his fingernails carding roughly through Dean’s long hair, tugging none-too-gently when he sensed that Dean wasn’t paying him enough attention.

Finally, finally, Dean felt Cas resting fully inside him, the angel’s testicles nestled against his ass. Dean disentangled himself from Sam’s lips and tongue and straightened, panting heavily. He put a hand on either side of Sam, who was lying flat against the bed with his knees still raised. His lips were red and swollen from where Dean had kissed him, and his cock was hard and full. Dean was still soft inside his brother, and he hoped that it wouldn’t affect the spell.

He was about to ask “what now?” but Cas pulled out slightly and it hurt so bad he couldn’t focus on his original question and ended up shouting instead. “Aargh!” He grimaced and bent his head, breathing hard. “Sam! I thought you said you’d tried this before! Isn’t it supposed to feel good?” The angel pushed back in again, just the inch he’d pulled out, and it hurt like hell. “Jesus, FUCK!”

“It does, Dean,” Sam told him, miserable. “I swear it feels good, you just have to relax. Cas, can you spread your legs at all, try and make the angle better for Dean?”

“The more I move this vessel the faster it decays,” said Cas through gritted teeth, but he did push his knees further apart until they were resting along the insides of Dean’s legs. The angle didn’t seem to be improving things, and Dean realised he was going to have to deal with the pain in order to move things along and reverse the damn spell. He swallowed the curse he was going to mutter and gritted his teeth, pulling his soft dick only partially out of Sam, worried that if he took it out further he wouldn’t be able to get hard enough to get it back in. The movement jostled Cas behind him, and the cock in his ass brushed against something inside of him that -surprisingly- actually felt good. Dean gasped and fell forward in surprise, and Sam’s quick hands caught him.

“ _Yes_ ,” hissed Sam, and then he used his heels to pull Dean’s hips back down, causing Castiel’s cock to rub against the spot again.

Dean’s eyes shut of their own volition. _Damn, that felt good_. And his ass wasn’t hurting as much either, so maybe Sam had been right about the pleasure thing. If he could just get more pressure against that spot inside him…

As if he was reading Dean’s mind, Sam thrust up against his brother, causing Dean to slide back again, and this time it was like an explosion of pleasure. Instead of feeling as though he were being torn in half, Dean suddenly felt the length of Castiel’s dick like a line of heat inside him, and _fuck_ , when he hit that spot.

“ _Oh my God_ ,” Dean said, then swore when Sam clenched around him, his dick perking up at this new and unexpected wave of pleasure.

“That’s your prostate,” Sam said unnecessarily, and then tightened around Dean again, bringing him back to his full size.

Dean waited for Cas to slide out, but the angel was still, breathing raggedly behind Dean. It looked like this party wasn’t going to start itself, and Dean was willing to do anything for another taste of that pleasure. He kept his hands on either side of Sam and pushed back, sliding himself out of his brother and letting Castiel’s cock push as far into him as it could. When just the tip of his dick was left inside of Sam, he slowly reversed direction and pushed back in. Sam felt _amazing_ around him, unbelievably tight and hot and wet. And Castiel’s dick was shooting bolts of pleasure down Dean’s legs every time it brushed against his prostate. He moaned at the dual pressure from both his ass and his cock. Sam and Cas moaned too, and Dean sped up a little, in and out of Sam, on and off Cas. He didn’t want to go too quickly, was worried that he would hurt Cas, who was trying to stay still behind him. Luckily, Sam didn’t appear to have a problem with the slow speed. Now that Dean’s cock had gotten with the program, Sam had let his head fall back and was focusing on twitching his hips in time with Dean’s thrusts. His dick, untouched, bounced in between them. Dean stared at it, wondering if Sam could come just from Dean inside him. Should he jerk his brother off? What was the polite thing to do?

Just as he was about to lift a tentative hand towards Sam’s dick, he felt a pressure fall against the back of his head that pushed him suddenly downward, bending his spine horribly. He tried to yell but as he opened his mouth Sam’s dick filled it, and the pressure on the back of his head was still pushing him down, forcing his back to bend even further and Sam’s cock to push up past his lips. He yelled inarticulately, quashing his first instinct to just bite down (that was Castiel’s cock, fuck). He tried to push back against the pressure on the back of his head but it ignored him and began rocking slowly, pushing Dean up and down against the hard flesh in his mouth.

“Sam,” Castiel said from behind Dean, sounding amused. “You have to keep your grace under control.”

“Huh?” Sam looked up and noticed Dean bent over him, swallowing futilely against his dick. Dean tried to look up at him to indicate his discomfort, and caught a glimpse of the intense arousal and flushed pleasure (mixed with embarrassment) that was plastered across Sam’s face. He had done that to his brother, he realised. Cas hadn’t even touched Sam. It was Dean’s dick, and Dean’s mouth, and Dean’s hands, that had turned Sam into this writhing mess.

The pressure against Dean’s head disappeared, and he pulled off Sam, gasping. His spine creaked in protest at its treatment.

“Sorry Dean, sorry, oh my god I didn’t mean… I would never…"

“S’okay, Sammy,” Dean replied, his voice husky. “Warn me next time though.” Only after the words had left his mouth did Dean realise the implications of saying “next time,” but before he could correct himself Cas twitched inside him. “Hurry,” he said urgently. “Dean, you need to orgasm simultaneously with me. I am not far from my climax.”

“You too,” Dean told Sam, and wrapped a hand around his brother before he got any more blowjob ideas. Technically, Sam didn’t have to come for the spell to work, but Dean wasn’t some heartless hook-up who didn’t care about the pleasure of his partner. He stroked in time with his thrusts, pushing himself back and forth between his brother and their angel. It was awkward and sweaty and rushed, but there was pressure everywhere and Dean could feel his balls tightening in anticipation.

Sam was arching beneath him and so, so close. “Cas, Cas” Dean chanted, letting go of Sam to hold himself up with both hands, eyes shut and focused on the feel of the two bodies against him.

“Yes, Dean, yes,” the angel replied, then groaned, long and low. “Do it, Dean. Come. Do it now.” And then he moved for the first time in what felt like years, thrusting once, twice, against that spot inside of Dean.

Dean opened his mouth on a shout of pleasure, and felt the pressure at the back of his head again. Before he could blink an invisible hand was pushing him down onto Sam’s dick for the second time. His spine was close to snapping but his dick couldn’t care less, and Dean came, hard, shooting straight into Sam’s ass as Sam shot straight into his mouth. He shouted inarticulately against the semen that flooded his tongue. It was salty but in a good way, and Dean couldn’t stop himself from swallowing when another wave of pleasure crashed over him, making him thrust even harder into Sam, who was twitching in his mouth.

He was still at the height of his orgasm when he felt that taffy-pull stretch against his brain, and the room receded from his eyes. God damn, he was being shunted back into his own body _now_? He didn’t even get to finish properly? At least Sam would be forced into a body that was currently getting face-fucked by an angel. Dean would have laughed at the thought if he had a body to laugh with, but the memory of swapping back into his own body was sobering. It was bad enough that Sam had been forced into sex while in the body of an angel, but now he was going to wake up with Dean inside him and Cas on him. Time slowed as Dean’s brain stretched further, giving him a long moment to realise that Sam was going to want to _talk_ about this, but the best thing for everyone would be if Dean got out of the motel room immediately, to give his brother a chance to leave without Dean there. The thought saddened him, but he couldn’t figure out why. He _had_ to leave, didn’t he?

This time, the entrance back into his body wasn’t slow, but fast. He had a quick glimpse of Sam’s bare back in front of him, and of Castiel lying on the bed, before the pain hit. He screamed.

And screamed, and screamed. He felt as though he had been screaming for an eternity, though there was a part of him that also realised it had been less than a second. It felt as though his skin was on fire, and his insides were being torched. His muscles locked up completely, but a feathery whump announced Castiel’s departure, and then Sam was falling forward against the bed, Dean on top of him.

Moving even a little bit hurt. Being suddenly jolted forward was excruciating. Dean howled in agony, and was dimly aware that Sam had frozen beneath him and was speaking to him, fast and urgent.

“Dean, Dean, oh my god, Dean, don’t move, don’t move, Cas is coming back, oh god Dean, don’t move.”

Dean found that if he remained completely still the pain was reduced somewhat, and he stopped screaming, though it looked like Sam was trapped beneath him. He desperately wanted to get off his brother, let him make a run for it now while Dean couldn’t stop him, but his brain wouldn’t let him move. He grunted when he realised he was still inside Sam.

Sam slowly, slowly turned his head, making sure he didn’t jostle Dean at all. “Dean,” he said slowly, “Cas is coming back, I swear. It’s going to be okay.”

Dean grunted again. He couldn’t move his jaw to form a response. Part of him was trying to work up the courage to pull out of Sam. He could handle the momentary pain, he thought, and the idea of forcing Sam to stay beneath him any longer than necessary was even more painful than the decay. He braced himself and silently counted down from three, preparing to rip himself backward.

Sam must have seen something of Dean’s intention in his face, because he said “Don’t you dare, Dean! Don’t you dare!” He could probably guess what was on Dean’s mind. “Seriously, Dean, this isn’t uncomfortable at all.” Dean grunted in disbelief. Sam was kneeling against a low bed frame with his own brother on top of him, their limbs awkwardly tangled at weird angles. “I mean, it’s not _that_ uncomfortable,” Sam rectified. “Seriously, I could stay here for hours.”

Dean grimaced internally. He seriously hoped they weren’t going to be stuck here for hours.

“Listen, I know you’re probably eating yourself up right now, but before Cas comes back I want to tell you something.”

Oh no, oh no, oh no. Sam was going to have the _talk_ , and there was nothing Dean could do to stop him.

“Don’t go rushing off to the nearest bar, Dean. We’ll work this out. I know you didn’t want this but you can’t just drown out the memory with booze. I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t think of a counter spell faster, and… and you can leave in the morning if you still want to but, Dean, please just stay tonight. Sleep on it. We can work this out. We always do.” He smiled sadly, then turned his head a little further, trying to catch a glimpse of Dean’s face.

Sam was blaming himself for this mess. Typical. Dean desperately wanted to move his mouth, to remind Sam that he had just been raped by his brother, but all he could do was grunt. There was an awkward silence, and Dean could see that Sam was working up the courage to say something else.

“Listen, Dean, it… it wasn’t _bad_ for me, you know? You probably think you raped me or something ridiculous, but seriously, that was the best sex I’ve had in months. _Years_! I know… I know you didn’t enjoy it and I’m so, so sorry, but I…” Sam paused, and part of Dean was grateful, unsure if he wanted to hear the rest, but the other part of him was confused as hell and listening intently. “The thing is,” Sam continued in a small voice, “I really wanted it to be _me_ , you were kissing, instead of Lisa or Cassie or whoever you were imagining.” He looked like he was about to cry. “Oh, Dean, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry this happened. I never wanted this.” And then he turned his head back around and sniffed, and Dean realised he actually _was_ crying.

“Sa- Sa,” he tried saying his name, but Sam ignored him.

“I’ll be gone in the morning,” Sam said quietly, sadly, and Dean should have been pleased because that was what he had wanted, for Sam to never have to look at him again. But not like this. Not with tears in his eyes and that infinite sadness in his voice.

“Sa-,“ he said again, and then Cas was there. Dean automatically jumped at the sudden arrival, which made him scream again. Dimly, he was aware of Cas putting his hand on Dean’s head, and then it felt like water was pouring over him. Cool, refreshing, and blissful.

“Dean,” said the angel, “I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly. I had to replenish my grace in Heaven’s garden in order to heal you. This vessel was never designed to hold a human mind.”

Dean just moaned as the last of the pain left him, and he fell backwards as all his muscles went loose at the same time. He slipped out of Sam, who flinched at the feeling, and then his little brother was getting up and walking towards the bathroom on unsteady legs.

“Sam, I-,” but Sam had already shut the door behind him, leaving Cas and Dean alone. The angel, Dean noticed, was fully dressed again.

“Thanks for coming back, Cas,” Dean told him, then walked stiffly to the motel mirror to make sure his body was fully healed.

“Dean,” the angel said again, and Dean recognised that tone.

“Not you too,” he muttered.

“Dean, we need to talk.”

Dean grunted and inspected a mark on his collarbone that hadn’t been there before. Was it the decay? He prodded at it and noticed an indent in his skin that looked like… well, like a finger-shaped bruise. The mark wasn’t from decay, it was from Sam, who had used Castiel’s fingers to pinch Dean’s sensitive skin. Just the sight of it made Dean’s heart squeeze.

Castiel was standing behind him, too close, and Dean could sense another talk. _Nope_ , he decided, and then he was reaching for the nearest clothes, ready to sprint to the closest bar and the mind-numbing booze that waited for him there.

“Dean,” said Cas again, and then he was reaching around Dean to hold him, back to chest, staring over his shoulder at their reflections in the mirror.

“He loves you,” the angel said simply, blue eyes vivid. “We both do.”

The last hour rushed through him. Sam, flushed and gorgeous, his pupils blown wide. Cas, moaning at the pressure on his chest and cock. Dean's lungs ached, and his knees buckled. He let out a single sob, and Cas was supporting him again, dropping them both onto the musty motel floor and holding tightly around Dean’s chest. Cas and his complete inability to detect personal space. Cas and the _years_ of staring at Dean, unblinking. _Cas_ , Dean's mind whispered. _Cas_. And Sam, too. His baby brother growing up, and up, and wrestling with him over the years. The black void of his Stanford absence. _Sam_ , his mind almost choked on the name. Had it always been like this? Was Dean really so blind? _Sam, Sam, Sam_. 

“It’s okay Dean," Cas was murmuring against his ear. "It’s okay. I’m here. I have you.”

And then Dean was reaching blindly for Cas’s face, and pulling the angel toward him. Their lips met at an angle, and Dean groped haphazardly at his hair and clothing, pulling himself further into Cas’s lap.

When Sam came out of the bathroom a minute later, he stared at the two of them on the carpet, tangled around each other. “Finally,” he whispered to no one in particular, before going to join them on the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Mmmmh I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please leave feedback! <3 <3


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